


Destination: Inspiration

by glissandos



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: (sort of), 3RACHA, Adventure, Alternate Universe - College/University, Confessions, Fluff, M/M, Semi-Famous, Strangers to Lovers, Wanderlust, bus rides, day trip, more like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29386875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glissandos/pseuds/glissandos
Summary: There’s a cute guy who always takes the same bus line as Jisung, the one that leaves their university campus every Wednesday. It turns out that said guy (Minho) is apparently a fan of 3RACHA’s music, and Jisung may have just accidentally revealed that he’s J.One.Two weeks later, Minho insists on helping Jisung find inspiration for 3RACHA’s new mixtape in the works. A spontaneous bus-hopping journey through the city ensues; the two bond easily and feelings bloom rapidly along the way.(Or: An impromptu day of bus-hopping helps Jisung find lyrical inspiration not just in the intricacies of the city but also in Minho’s company.)
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 20
Kudos: 152
Collections: MINSUNG FICATHON: Round One; 2020





	Destination: Inspiration

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [MINSUNG FICATHON](http://twitter.com/minsungficathon), for PROMPT **A051**  
>  **(Prompt):** One of Them is Famous AU || "I can hear my song coming out of your headphones, do you want an autograph?"

\---

(2437 upvotes) |  **3RACHA** made a new post:  
>New mixtape hopefully coming in a few weeks, we can’t wait to share it with you ☺️ in the meantime, good luck on your midterms, everyone!

\---

If you were to mention the name J.One on campus, someone would likely recognize it.

Jisung would know. After all, he _is_ J.One. 

But the rest of campus doesn’t know that, nor do they know the identities of any other members of 3RACHA. The trio hadn’t deliberately intended to keep their identities secret at first, but one of their songs—“Matryoshka”—found itself suddenly gaining traction after a student blasted it across the school courtyard one afternoon. Perhaps that wasn’t the best way to fame, but soon enough half of the campus, or so it seemed, knew of 3RACHA or had listened to their music.

They weren’t particularly popular outside of the local scene, but the recognition was still too sudden to handle in such a short period of time. Jisung, Chan, and Changbin would rather keep their personal lives to themselves, so they just never bothered to reveal their student identities, except to their closest friends.

That is, until Jisung slips up.

He really didn’t mean to, and he blames it on the Cute Guy.

(And it turns out to be the opposite of a disaster, really.)

Every Wednesday after his last class, Jisung takes the bus line headed towards Chan and Changbin’s apartment for their scheduled brainstorming and songwriting session. It just so happens that there’s this guy that takes the same bus every Wednesday, and… well, to put it aptly, he’s cute.

Except, not that much has happened. They haven't really talked since the guy usually has a pair of earbuds in, and Jisung would feel intrusive if he attempted to start a conversation. But occasionally, Jisung will arrive at the stop and the Cute Guy will acknowledge him with a nod or offer a polite hello. 

(The one time they sat across from each other, the guy smiled when he noticed Jisung’s conspicuous staring, thinly veiled as observing the scenery out of the opposite window. The experience was embarrassing, to say the least, but on the other hand, Jisung got to witness a very beautiful smile, so it was very much worth it.)

This Wednesday, the bus is oddly crowded with no more empty seats available. Instead of shuffling in discomfort for the duration of the ride, Jisung uses it as a convenient excuse to slide into the seat right next to Cute Guy. When he notices Jisung sitting down next to him, he removes one of his earbuds.

“Hello,” he says with a grin. “I think the previous bus for this line broke down, so everyone has to take this one now.” 

“Oh,” Jisung says, surprised that they’ve exchanged more than a couple words. “I see.”

The guy lets out a quiet laugh. “I thought I’d tell you in case you were wondering. If you were also wondering, I’m Minho.”

“Jisung,” he replies, while trying to shoot Minho a cheeky smile. “And I guess I _was_ wondering.” And he definitely was, that’s for sure—having a name to match to the face is a lot more helpful than referring to Minho as Cute Guy in his head. 

Minho smiles back. It’s that same enchanting smile that Jisung had seen when Minho had caught him staring. “Well, nice to meet you, Jisung,” Minho says. 

They exchange a few more pleasantries before the bus starts up again and the conversation gradually pitters out. Minho plugs earbuds back into his ears and Jisung pulls out his phone to reply to the texts Changbin and Chan had sent in their group chat.

He’s in the middle of spamming a barrage of angry stickers to Changbin for buying Chan food for this session but not him ( _but we live together and he’s my boyfriend, Jisung,_ Changbin had justified; Jisung had stubbornly replied, _but i’m also your good friend, right?_ ) when he hears it.

 _It_ is _their_ music. 3RACHA’s music, tinny and faint, coming out of none other than Minho’s earbuds. And it’s not the song that made them popular either; it’s “Hoodie Season,” one of their most recent releases that not many know about. Jisung easily recognizes the groovy beat—they had been working on it for so long it got itself stuck in Jisung’s head.

And... woah. He would be lying if he said that this was the first time it’s happened, but it’s always nice and ego-boosting to stumble across others who listen to their music. Not to mention, the person listening to their music right now is a very attractive guy Jisung has been sort of admiring everytime they take the bus. 

So Jisung isn’t really thinking when he taps Minho’s shoulder and jokingly says, “I can hear my song coming out of your earbuds, do you want an autograph?"

Minho flinches in surprise, turning to face him and pulling his earbuds out. “What?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Did you just say something about… an _autograph?”_

 _Nice going,_ Jisung thinks as his brain catches up to his mouth. “Oh, um, nah,” he quickly backtracks and hopes that his panic isn’t visible. “You must have misheard, I was just mentioning how I could hear the music coming out of your earbuds.”

“No,” Minho states with startling conviction and peers curiously at him. “ _Your_ song?” 

“Well, technically, my _group’s_ song,” Jisung corrects and then slaps a palm over his face to stop himself. It’s too late. He’s already said too much. He can only slump lower in his seat. “I mean, you didn’t hear that!” 

Minho’s eyes widen. “You’re part of 3RACHA?” he interrogates in a hushed whisper. Not that he really needs to keep his voice down that much—the combination of the crowd and the hum of the bus engine dispels conversation before it can travel far, anyway.

Jisung contemplates attempting to cover up his mistake, but the thing is, he can’t really lie. 

Okay, that’s a lie in itself; he can lie, but he doesn’t like to. 

“Yeah,” he relents. “But please, don’t tell anyone,” he adds on for safety measures. 

Minho’s eyes light up. “Damn, that’s so cool,” he says earnestly and then laughs. “In case you couldn’t tell, I’m a big fan of your music.” 

“I’m actually going to go work on our upcoming songs with the other two members right now,” Jisung admits. He might as well talk about it freely since he’s already leaked the big secret. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep it a secret,” Minho whispers conspiratorially. “I really do like your music, though.” Then, his expression becomes thoughtful. “So….” he trails off. “Guessing from your real name and your voice, you’re… J.One?”

“That’s me,” Jisung confirms.

Minho breaks into another contagious grin. “Nice!” he exclaims. Then, making pointed eye contact with Jisung, he says: “I won’t ask about the identities of the other two, but I will say that you’re my favorite.”

“Oh, uh…” Jisung flushes red and glances away. “Thanks?”

The response of Minho’s soft and tinkly laughter is like music to Jisung’s ears. He foolishly wishes he could record it, save it as a sample, or do something, _anything_ to store it for future reference. “I just think you’re really talented, that’s all,” Minho tells him. “Not that SpearB and CB97 aren’t just as good, but for some reason, I really like your rapping and your voice.” He pauses. “Sorry, was that weird? I hope I didn’t make it too awkward.” 

“It’s cool,” Jisung utters, but the heat in his face tells a different story. He just needs to make small talk. He can do that. 

“What’s your favorite song?” He asks as a way to continue their conversation, but truth be told, he really is interested in Minho’s response. 

“‘Hoodie Season’ is fitting for the current weather, right?” Minho points out the window, and Jisung takes in the other’s black hoodie along with all of the fallen leaves dusting the streets outside. After all, it had been the main reason why they’d released the song when they did. 

“I also like ‘For You,’” Minho says. “Oh! And that solo song you released a while back, I think it’s called ‘I see,’” he proudly tacks on, his voice light. 

“Hey, hey,” Jisung says. “Now you’re just saying that because I’m here. I mean, I know I’m cool, and all, but…” he’s unable to stop the faltering confidence in his voice.

“No, really,” Minho insists, pushing his phone closer so he can see. “It’s the next song on my playlist, and I _really_ like it. Your voice definitely suits the bittersweet instrumentals.”

“Ah…” Jisung awkwardly scratches the back of his neck as Minho beams brightly at him. 

“Honestly, your voice probably fits anything,” he continues. At this point, there have been too many compliments thrown around in the last few minutes, and Jisung doesn’t know how to take them. Maybe Minho is delighting in the way Jisung squirms under his gaze.

When Jisung flounders for a reply for a few beats too long, Minho squints at his reddening face, finally coming to a realization of what’s happening. “That’s it, I guess,” Minho shrugs. “Huh. Today was certainly a pleasant surprise.”

And just as Jisung is about to reply, Minho blurts out: “It’s your stop, you almost missed it!” He tugs on the stop request cord just in time for the bus to begin slowing down. 

Jisung bolts up and out of his seat, shooting a hasty _thanks, or I would’ve had to walk back so far if I had actually missed it_ plus a _see you next week_ as he narrowly slips past the closing bus doors. 

It’s only when he’s standing in the middle of the sidewalk when he realizes that Minho must have paid just as much attention to him as he had to Minho, stealing glances throughout the previous weeks, because he was well-aware of what stop Jisung regularly got off at. 

Jisung presses a palm to his cheek then, and sure enough, it’s far too warm for the cool “Hoodie Weather” outside.

\---

The next Wednesday, Minho is quick to engage Jisung in small talk once he shows up at the stop, and Jisung settles into the same seat from last week when the bus arrives. 

He learns that Minho is a senior double-majoring in computer science and dance (which is honestly quite impressive) and that Minho’s phone background is a picture of some stray cats that he’s started feeding outside his apartment. 

In turn, Jisung shares that he’s a sophomore music major (obviously), and that he too has a soft spot for furry critters, which launches Minho into a spiel about the details of almost every cat that’s ever stopped by his apartment. 

Jisung doesn’t mind though. Some of the cat descriptions are accompanied by funny anecdotes, and it’s more entertaining than idly watching the same street scenery he’s grown accustomed to pass by. 

\---

Somehow, the rhythm they have going on evolves into something different this week. 

Jisung arrives at the stop to find Minho already standing there as per usual. 

“How’s everything been going?” Minho asks.

Last night, Jisung had a petty fight with his roommate, Hyunjin, about how they should go about organizing their messy room (they haven’t talked since). Then earlier today, he had received his music history midterm back with a less-than-satisfactory score, but neither of those events are what Jisung is currently thinking about, nor does he think that Minho cares to listen to his woes at the moment. 

“I need some new inspiration,” Jisung mutters. For the past few weeks, they had been working on some new songs for their mixtape. Thanks to Chan, they’ve gotten most of the instrumentals for their songs done, and today’s session will be for lyrics. But Jisung just knows it’ll be a drag for him; since his slump hit, his attempts to compose fresh lyrics fall flat.

“Oh,” Minho says, a thoughtful expression passing over his face. 

Jisung groans, kicking at a loose rock on the pavement. “I’ll figure out something eventually.”

“Wait.” The start of a smile forms at the corners of Minho’s mouth. “You’re going to work on music right now?”

“Yeah,” Jisung answers. “Why?”

“Okay!” Minho’s grinning brightly now. “What if we took a different bus and just went around the city?”

“A different bus…?” 

Jisung considers it, and he has to admit that—despite how impulsive it is—the idea is alluring (perhaps even more so _because_ of how impulsive it is). And although it’s already Jisung’s second year as a student, he hasn’t wandered much further from school aside from the occasional night out and Chan and Changbin’s place. “But what about you?”

“I mean, I take this bus every day,” Minho tells him. “Normally I just go back to my apartment, so I wouldn’t really be missing anything. So what do you say?” 

“Well…” Jisung begins.

“This would count as working on music too,” Minho suggests. “Besides, you’d probably get more out of it rather than going to the same place to work on lyrics, right?”

Minho’s words are more than true, and Jisung can’t deny that the growing excitement in Minho’s own eyes already has him caving. 

“Fine,” Jisung eventually succumbs to the offer, and Minho grins. 

“Hey, why are you so eager, now?” Jisung can’t help but suspiciously ask.

“You already know I’m your fan,” Minho winks. “I’d be a fool to pass up an opportunity to help out with your music.”

When a flustered Jisung flails for a response, Minho only laughs. “Okay. But I’m only sort of kidding. I think it would be fun.”

It _would_ be fun. It’s the reason why Jisung agrees in the first place. 

_hey sorry last minute change of plans,_ he texts to the 3RACHA group chat. _i won’t be able to make it today, but trust me, i'm still gonna be musically productive ^-^_

When three o’clock rolls around, Minho and Jisung board a different bus line, and their spontaneous pursuit for inspiration begins.

\---

“So…” Minho says after they’ve scanned their student cards and taken their seats. “I’m not familiar with this route at all.”

“Me neither,” Jisung admits. He’s never, in his two years at this school, taken this bus route, and it’s already taken a turn down a street he’s never seen before. This line likely goes deeper downtown, where the buildings stand taller and the streets are crowded, bustling with pedestrians. 

The unknown streets only fuel Jisung’s excitement. They’re definitely going to be able to entertain themselves, and Jisung can already feel his anticipation creeping in and taking flight as he presses his face to the window and hugs his backpack to his chest, taking in the new sights passing by.

Minho insisted that Jisung take the window seat— _to look around more easily,_ he had said.

The plan goes as follows:

Jisung will hopefully spot something that catches his eye, and they’ll get off on the following stop and look around. 

Then maybe they’ll take a different bus and get off again whenever the right moment strikes.

He has no particular destination in mind, but he sure does know that they’re in for one interesting afternoon.

\---

Their first stop comes to them in the form of an anomaly on a busy street.

“We have to get off here,” Jisung eagerly turns to Minho, his hand already pulling on the cord to request the next stop. 

The bus deposits them on the side of the road, revealing to them what looks like the entrance to an old theater hall on the opposite side. 

Though, that’s not exactly what Jisung wanted to get off the bus for.

Instead, he leads Minho down the street, coming to an abrupt halt in front of what had caught his eye.

It’s small, extremely easy to miss had Jisung not been paying so much attention to their surroundings. It’s a hole-in-the-wall place wedged in between two fancy restaurants, the space wide enough for a quaint door and a singular window that has fresh food on display. _BAKERY & DIM SUM, _the faded sign overhead reads. Jisung pulls the door open,the warm smell of baked bread and steamed buns hitting him instantly as he enters. 

That alone strikes Jisung with a pang of homesickness; even though summer vacation had only ended a couple months ago, he still misses his mother’s cooking. Cafeteria food isn’t the horribly inedible gunk that some students made it out to be, and Jisung and Hyunjin had even tried cooking their own meals for a while, but neither of those options beat the homey warmth that Jisung experiences as he stands in the entrance. Perhaps that’s why he had felt such a pull to come here. 

A place like this has no room for tables or chairs, the space only big enough for customers that know its walls and menu items well. He guesses that customers that probably frequent the place do so to selflessly keep it alive and to selfishly ensure that they have a place nearby to help them remember the taste of home. 

When the homey feel is their best selling point, Jisung finds it almost ironic that patrons have nowhere to linger inside. But Jisung is here for inspiration and the first stop of their afternoon of adventure, not to reminisce, with the sudden ache in his chest that yearns for his mom’s cooking. He lets the feeling sink in for a moment anyway, committing the scene to memory for later when he’ll get back home and take up his pencil and notebook full of drafts of songs. 

In the meantime, he and Minho scan over the menu to decide what they want to order. Somehow, it leads to an argument over who’s going to pay for the food. Minho eventually (and stubbornly) wins after repeatedly insisting that this trip was his idea in the first place, and they leave the bakery with shrimp dumplings and barbecued pork buns in tow. 

All in all, Jisung feels strangely fulfilled. Although…

“So, has any lyrical inspiration come to the great J.One?” Minho asks, pulling one of the barbecued pork buns out of the paper bag as they walk back to the stop. 

“Nothing concrete yet, I guess,” Jisung replies. There is, however, the start of an idea taking root in the back of his mind. How the smallest of places can still thrive in a city larger-than-life because deep down it still offers what people _crave._

“Then, here’s a line for you,” Minho jokingly begins, taking a bite of his bun. Jisung does the same, embracing the steaming warmth of it before it’s ungracefully interrupted by Minho’s lyricism: “You’re like the filling to my bun: sweet and tangy, and definitely delicious.”

Jisung scrutinizes the mock-serious expression on Minho’s face before they both start cracking up.

“Poetic,” he remarks. “I think 3RACHA would experience a drop in listeners if anyone ever heard that in a song,” he says. “Besides, that’s more of a pickup line than a good lyric.”

“If that’s the case, did it work?”

Jisung wrinkles his nose and sarcastically replies, “Yes. I’m incredibly flattered. I’ve always wanted to be compared to a steamed bun. Humans are just so delicious, am I right?” Despite the ridiculous line, his face heats up a bit at the word _delicious_ anyway. Minho laughs, amused. 

“Well, it’s still better than anything I’ve heard in ‘Wow’,” Minho prods on the surface, his tone slightly teasing, as Jisung visibly cringes and nearly chokes on his next bite. 

“Wouldn’t be hard to beat,” Jisung deadpans. “Please never bring up that song again.”

“You got it, captain.” Minho shoots him a crooked grin alongside his thumbs-up, and they stroll back towards the bus stop, savoring the food they—or to be more specific, Minho—had purchased in comfortable silence. 

They continue to munch on their food as they walk down the sidewalks, each bite more nostalgia-inducing than the last. There’s a juxtaposition between the feeling in his stomach and the urban concrete under his feet: it doesn’t quite embody the word _home_ , the grey pavement too chilling and unlived. But when he shares this food with Minho, he experiences momentary satisfaction that mingles with his own unique sense of righteous belonging.

\---

“We’re getting on the next bus that stops by here, right?” Jisung asks, resigning to the seat on the bench after standing for five minutes with no sign of another bus.

“Yeah,” Minho says, plopping down right next to Jisung. Suddenly, he performs an overly-exaggerated gasp and brings a hand to his mouth, which is open in a wide ‘O’ shape. 

“What?” 

Minho breaks into quiet guffaws. “Your feet don’t even reach the ground. It’s cute.”

“Hey!” Jisung swats an arm out at Minho, who ducks away before Jisung can hit him. He can hear his blood rushing past his ears, failing to drown out the echo of Minho’s voice saying _It’s cute._ It replays over and over, and he has to consciously fight his brain before he can read into it any further. He finds himself glancing down at his feet. From the moment he had taken his seat, his feet had been swinging back and forth absentmindedly above the ground, a nervous habit he’s yet to correct. 

Besides him, Minho’s feet only just barely touch the ground. And to be fair, the bench is abnormally (and unfairly) tall, like it had been designed specifically with a mini-giant traveler in mind. Glaring back up at Minho, he points out: “Not like you’re doing much better.”

Minho shrugs. It’s clear he’s basking victoriously, however minute the victory is. Jisung petulantly kicks at Minho’s feet in retaliation. What he doesn’t expect is Minho kicking back. It irks Jisung too much to just let it go, and soon enough Jisung is playing a full-on game of _footsie_ with a practical stranger. 

Yet, the sound of Jisung calling Minho a stranger is more strange than the actual person he’s referencing. The fact is, he barely knows Minho; he’s as good as a stranger to him, in all definitions of the word. They had only learned each others’ _names_ two weeks ago, even after taking the same bus since the school year started. Their impromptu decision to venture around the city, along with Minho’s genuine interest in his music, had been a coincidence built out of a storybook. Yet, it has also made him feel indescribably connected to the other. Not to mention the food element, eating dim sum together as they walked back to the station.

“Jisung?” Minho’s voice hints at concern when Jisung’s kicks inadvertently fade away. 

“Whoops,” Jisung sheepishly apologizes; he had gotten momentarily lost in thought.

“The bus,” Minho points out, and Jisung registers a hand slipping into his before he’s being tugged off the bench to meet the incoming bus. Minho’s palm is warm and soft against his, the sensation bordering on comforting and even familiar. But if anything, it’s tangible reassurance of how easily he and Minho seem to be getting along.

\---

They only ride a couple of stops the second time before Jisung is motioning to exit the bus. He had spotted a cozy bookstore on the corner of one intersection. For this stop, the reason is obvious: what better way to find inspiration than through the rows upon rows of books cataloguing the imagination and thoughts of others? 

When he ponders the thought enough, he comes to the conclusion that it _isn’t_ plagiarism, simply inspiration, and thus still fair game. Stepping inside, Jisung leads him to one of the shelves in the front corner, stacked with multiple copies of thick, bounded novels. He and Minho browse the shelves for some time, with Jisung thumbing through the first pages of numerous books and even going as far to dip his nose into the children’s section. It’s nothing to sneer at. Inspiration can be discovered anywhere, and occasionally, he’s found the use of fewer and simpler words to be just as impactful, if not more. 

But it isn’t just the books; Jisung also takes careful note of the other patrons inside of the store. 

One girl is curled up in a beanbag, engrossed with a thick fantasy novel in her lap, escaping the reality of the world. A man by his side continuously reaches for books, only to put them back after barely a momentary glance at the back cover. There are also two students, seated at the tall desk by the front window, their laptops open next to large textbooks.

And then there’s Minho, standing in the thriller section. He’s devoting his rapt attention to the book open in his hand, his lips parted and eyes wide as he scans the words on the page. Some of his dark hair falls over his forehead, and a hand quickly reaches up to push it back. 

(Here, Jisung’s gaze pauses for a few moments. He’s frozen in time while watching Minho, with the boy resembling a work of live art.)

Like he had done at the bakery, Jisung briefly memorizes the sight before him, before pulling an oblivious Minho out of his book so they don’t spend too much time in one place.

“Did you find anything?” Minho asks, closing the book cover once he catches a glimpse of Jisung.

Jisung hums, unrevealing of anything. 

They saunter over to the counter, and Minho slips the unfinished thriller novel he had been reading into his backpack after paying.

And Jisung leaves the bookstore empty handed, but it’s not all a lost cause. His mind is only brimming with more thoughts.

\---

Jisung hadn’t consciously noticed earlier—too caught up in unfamiliar streets to think about things as mundane as weather—but it is mid-November and the sun is out. At five o’clock, it’s starting to set, but it’s still there, going strong, rays hitting his skin. 

Maybe that’s why the park looks so appealing. It’s compact, nested between city apartments and small cafes. However, the sprawling green grass and red-leafed trees basking in the sunlight practically beckon both of them off the bus before they can think twice of it, and soon enough he and Minho are strolling through the park in tandem. 

There’s a light breeze in the air. It’s the sort of breeze that has no bite and only a gentle flow, brushing against him lightly, his hair sweeping across his forehead. It’s quiet, serene, like this park is the sort of place one would go to clear their head of worries. Like this park is the sort of place to take life slowly even when the city continues to soar above at a faster pace.

“I think I’m starting to know what I want to write about for my song,” Jisung remarks, glancing around at the calming mass of foliage around them. 

Minho turns to him, grinning. “That’s good,” he replies, and his smile is even brighter in the sunlight. Then, he raises a challenging eyebrow. “Wanna use the swings?” 

\---

If the mother and her two young kids wandering the playground see two full-grown university students sprinting across the grass as they race each other to the swings, it’s none of their business.

Minho wins. Jisung insists that it’s not even by a full second. But of course, Minho disagrees. 

So Jisung challenges him _again_ to see who can swing the highest. 

Unfortunately, it turns out to be a rather comical failure on both of their parts. They learn that they’re both afraid of heights, with Minho refusing to go any higher than the top of the supporting pole in the fear that he’s going to hurtle off his swing. Jisung shares the sentiment; he kind of enjoys the thrill of near-flying, but after a few extra pushes against the ground, he realizes that he’s swinging at a dangerously high and fast-pace. 

Still, he pettily declares himself the winner. They’re even now. 

It isn’t quite over, however, because Minho then dares him to jump off his moving swing. Though, this is simply unfair because Minho is unwilling to demonstrate it when Jisung slyly asks him to. Neither of them dare to budge from their seats after that, and they both dissolve into laughter, loud chuckles that go flying freely into the air.

Either way, Jisung’s glad to be back on the ground after their silly antics—sitting on an unmoving swing with his feet planted onto the sand definitely feels a lot safer. 

Minho seems to agree. 

“This is nice,” he muses, and Jisung pivots on his swing to glance at Minho, who is currently sitting on the neighboring swing, feet rocking back and forth to create a divot in the sand.

Minho’s eyes are closed. The setting sun hits at an angle, illuminating all of his features and doing a wonder to his already-handsome face. 

As for Jisung, he… 

Minho’s eyes open after a frenzy of blinks. Surely, he notices the way Jisung is blatantly staring at him, but Minho only offers him a small and secretive smile. 

But he knows. Because, to put it simply, Minho just _gets_ him, Jisung thinks, even when he hasn’t said anything at all.

“I’ll race you back to the bus stop?” Minho suggests, pulling on his backpack off from the ground and slinging it over his shoulder, his smile transforming into something devious again.

Needless to say, Jisung gets in his fair share of exercise for the afternoon.

\---

He gets in more than just his “fair share of exercise” for the afternoon. They arrive at the stop when their bus is pulling away. Minho quickly makes a run for it, with Jisung following suit. Screaming for the sheer hope that the bus driver will notice them, they chase it down for half a block until the driver eyes them in the mirror and kindly pulls to the curb so they are able to get on. 

An old lady sends a judgemental stare towards them as they take their seats, both of them hard of breath, huffing and panting and breaking into breathless laughter every few seconds as they each try to insist that they were the winner of their pseudo race. 

The laughter dies down when the remaining passengers file out of the bus. 

Unfortunately, in their haste to board the vehicle, neither of them had spared a moment to glance at the route—and they’re dumped back on the sidewalk just three stops later when the bus reaches the end of the line.

“This is… uh,” Minho glances around, his eyebrows furrowed. 

“...Yeah,” Jisung finishes off his sentence, just as vague and confused as Minho had been.

They’re standing in what looks to be a more residential area, with apartment buildings surrounding them. Instead of waiting for yet another bus, though, Jisung shoves his hands into his pockets and starts walking down the street, leaving Minho scrambling to catch up.

“Hey! What happened to bus-hopping?” Minho calls after him, amusement evident in his voice. 

With the sun dipping lower and lower, their shadows are long against the cement. To be quite honest, Jisung himself is not even sure why he decided to walk either. But his brain and his body are uncoordinated, his feet seemingly growing a mind of their own as they pull him to the next intersection. 

When Jisung glances to the left, he sees a flash of color—bright red lettering that stands out from the dull beiges and greys of the residential complex. It beckons him to come closer, and ultimately, he decides to follow it. 

They reach a building, illuminated with fluorescent lights. The doors slide open as they near the entrance, stepping into the supermarket with synchronization. 

“So you were just hungry,” Minho says, a crooked grin spreading across his face. 

“Nope,” Jisung counters. “We already stopped for food earlier this afternoon.” 

“Then…?” Minho prompts, tilting his head to the side.

Jisung shrugs. “When’s the last time you actually lingered in the supermarket rather than just gone in and out for food?”

“Why would I do that?” Minho squints at him like he’s trying to discern a second meaning behind Jisung’s words, before the breath leaves his mouth in a half-huff half-laugh. “But to answer your question, not too recently, I guess.”

Jisung wanders to the produce section first, where Minho quickly picks up a potato and gives it to him, because, in his words, “it looks like you, Jisung!” 

“That joke is so old.” He rolls his eyes, not keen to share the delighted smile that’s plastered on Minho’s face, but it doesn’t seem to deter him. Because right afterward, Jisung is faced with a barrage of bad puns that Minho claims he can fit into his lyrics—

“You’re the _apple_ of my eye,” Minho says once, and only once before Jisung throws the nearest fruit—a lemon—back at him. Minho easily catches it, to Jisung’s chagrin, and then, upon closer inspection of the object in his hands, pipes up again with, “don’t be so _sour._ ” 

“You know, if you would say something back, I’d feel a little less _melon_ -choly,” Minho tells him just moments later with a chuckle, and stands there expectantly, waiting. 

Jisung decides to humor him, just this once. “If you don’t stop the fruit puns you’re going to be _fruit pun_ -ched,” he retorts, turning around to level Minho with a threatening stare, but his deadpan face lasts a mere two seconds before both of them start cracking up, as they had been doing all day. 

Instead of being any sort of lyrical inspiration, the supermarket stop turns out to be more of an opportunity to linger in each section and make cheesy remarks about some food item or another. He has to admit, Minho’s arsenal of puns is quite impressive. He never struck Minho to be that sort of person (but what kind of person did Jisung strike him to begin with?). Eventually, they’re nearly kicked out of the store by a manager who definitely woke up on the wrong side of the bed, but Jisung doesn’t mind. 

The thing is this: he’s pretty sure he already has enough inspiration. He probably has since their trip to the bookstore, the ideas inking themselves in the blank pages of his brain. But he wouldn’t mind just going around the city with Minho for a while longer, even if it’s until midnight. Even if he has no good reason to. Especially if he has no good reason to. It’s probably already late enough, truth be told. The sun has finally fallen behind the buildings, darkening the sky, and the streetlights are beginning to shine their light onto the rest of the world when they step outside of the supermarket. 

This time, the walk back to the bus stop is a quieter one. More peaceful and content. He doesn’t know if he prefers this more than the talkative walks, but he supposes that it doesn’t matter. As they walk, their fingers continue to brush together, but just barely. The touch is faint, faint enough that he could ignore it if he tried hard enough (or just separated himself a little more from Minho). But after the backs of their hands accidentally brush a third time, on a particularly confident impulse, Jisung stops Minho’s hand at the bottom of its next swing and slots their fingers together. 

Minho doesn’t say anything, but he does give their joined hands a particularly enthusiastic swing. And when they arrive at the bus stop, it’s just as a bus is pulling up. Perfectly-timed, it’s like everything is gradually slotting into place. Their intertwined hands only help to serve as another reminder.

\---

Jisung also has to give Minho some credit. He’s certain that Minho has picked up that it’s been over half-an-hour and Jisung hasn’t decided to leave the bus yet. Minho makes no comments about this, nor about the fact that their hands are still joined, comfortably resting between their laps. 

His decision to stay on the bus goes as follows: nothing outside the bus windows has yet to catch Jisung’s eyes. Yet, mostly it’s because Jisung is just striving to prolong their evening out, reluctant to start heading back to campus. 

It’s when Jisung sees a neon sign for a gas station, the same one that he had just seen twenty minutes prior, that he realizes they’ve made a full loop around one of the bus circuits. 

_Whoops,_ he thinks to himself, along with a, _what am I doing?_

Actually, he’s pretty aware of what he’s doing. 

Minho probably is too. 

Jisung turns to Minho to explain—or to at least tell him that they need to get off for a different bus—but notices the other’s head lolled back into his seat, his eyes calmly shut in the dim lighting. 

_Oh._

“Psst. Minho,” Jisung whispers, gently jostling Minho’s shoulders with his free hand. It’s an awkward movement, because he’s using the hand that’s further away and he has to reach over across his chest to do so. 

“I didn’t fall asleep!” Minho blurts the moment Jisung’s fingers land on the seam of his sweater, his eyes snapping open, and Jisung almost laughs. “I was just relaxing my eyes, I swear,” he says defensively. 

“You looked pretty cozy just now,” Jisung teases anyway, but Minho is at least alert enough to roll his eyes at him. Then, he jolts forward again and into Jisung’s face. “Wait, did you want to get off?”

“Oh, uh..” Jisung begins nervously. “I mean, not particularly, but then I realized that the bus had gone a full loop already.”

“Ah,” Minho says sagely, and then leans back into his seat. He yawns, nose scrunching up—might Jisung add, adorably—as he does so. He tries to keep himself from staring, but to no avail. “We should probably get off, then.” 

Jisung nods. Minho’s eyes follow the movement, from Jisung’s eyes to his chin, then trails his gaze lower to where their hands—still joined—are resting between their touching thighs. His gaze rises back up and he squints at Jisung. 

Jisung holds in a breath, his chest constricting as he does so. 

He’s not even sure why.

But neither of them make an initiative to do anything. 

Minho squints a little harder. He leans a little closer, as if he’s trying to peer through Jisung’s eyes into his brain. It causes Jisung to shiver, being scrutinized under Minho’s watchful gaze.

Jisung clears his throat—for lack of any better idea of what to do—and it sounds unnaturally loud. Probably because it _is._ But Minho stops studying him with immense scrutiny and snorts instead. Finally, he opens his mouth and says, “Do you wanna pull the stop cord?”

“Yeah,” Jisung replies, his free arm lagging for a second before eventually reaching up to tug the cord. The bus comes to a dragging stop, and he registers a jerk on his other hand as Minho stands up and pulls him towards the opening doors. 

The bus rolls away, its faint trail of exhaust lingering in wisps in the air. The streetlights have all turned on by now.

“It’s dark,” Minho points out the night sky, where the only trace of remaining sun is in the violet-tinged sky at the horizon. 

“Yeah.”

Minho hums. He steps toward the bus stop post, where the times of the other busses are listed below a small map of the city. It might be the first time they’ve actually stopped to look at one of these timetables since they left today, even though they’ve encountered them across the city multiple times.

“It’s seven forty-five,” Jisung informs him, swiping open his phone and shuffling closer to Minho to aim the phone flashlight at the timetable for better visibility. His other hand is _still_ glued to Minho’s, like neither of them wants to be the first to let go. 

Minho hums again, this time in acknowledgement, finger hovering down the times listed and then dropping his arm down to his side. They stand there like that for a few moments—with Jisung peering over the side of Minho’s shoulder and Minho peering at the sign—before Minho says, “I’m stuck.”

Jisung bursts into quiet giggles, even though it’s not _that_ funny.

“I mean,” Minho clarifies, “I think we’ve gone pretty far. The campus is probably outside of the scope of this small map.”

“Oh,” Jisung says. He thinks for a moment. “I think we have to go.. east?” he says with hesitation. “As long as it’s in that general direction.” 

“Maybe,” Minho neither agrees nor disagrees. “How about we just use your phone? To double check.”

“Are you doubting my navigational abilities?” Jisung shoots back, but there’s no malice in his voice; a grin settles on his face instead. 

“Yes,” Minho replies seriously, and then cracks a smile of his own. “I’m not in a rush to get back,” he tells Jisung, “but I just don’t want to go the wrong way. Unless you wanted to stop somewhere else?”

“I’m good,” he says. He doesn’t quite know how to explain that he certainly would like to stop somewhere else, except that the stop is no longer for some sort of abstract idea or inspiration. Isn’t it enough to just have Minho’s company? So instead, he taps to the maps on his phone, and finally, after nearly an hour of being joined by their fingers, pulls his other hand away to type out the destination. 

\---

Some time later, they are back on the bus, already aware of the stop they need to get off on for once. The maps had informed them that they’d have to transfer to another bus, and that there was a short walk in between. 

The ride passes by in an instant. 

Though they don’t arrive back on campus until an hour later, it still feels all too soon. Jisung feels like he’s moving especially slowly when he steps off the last bus for the evening, trudging down the staircase that leads him to the pavement. A few students are meandering about the sidewalks, but for the most part, it is relatively quiet and calm. Perhaps it just feels especially quiet because Jisung had gotten used to hearing the steady thrum of the bus wheels from under them. 

They linger at the stop, and Jisung flounders for something to say. Anything to say, at this point.

“Thanks for today,” is what he finally settles on. It’s unable to capture what he particularly means to convey, but he’s left empty for words.

Minho’s eyes crinkle up and the corners of his mouth do too. “What are you saying?” he replies, and then steps forward and slips an arm through Jisung’s, tugging him down the sidewalk. “The dorms are this way, right?”

_Wait._

At that moment, multiple things register in Jisung’s spaced-out brain. 

One: Minho is walking him back. 

Two: Minho doesn’t even live on campus. Jisung distinctly remembers Minho telling him that he took the bus away from campus each day after classes to go back to his apartment. 

Three: that means Minho accompanied him a handful of extra stops _just_ to walk him back. 

He freezes in his tracks, dragging his heels into the cement until Minho turns to regard him with a confused look. 

“You– you–” he tries, but the words are clogged in his throat. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Jisung sees when the recognition hits Minho’s face, but the other dons a carefree expression nonetheless. “What?” Minho innocently asks. 

“You’re going to have to take _another_ bus to go home!” Jisung glowers at him. “Your apartment would have been on the way back to campus, right?”

Minho laughs. “Yeah.”

“Then—”

“I don’t mind,” Minho says, and laughs again like it’s all an elaborate joke on his part.

“But—”

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” Minho asks, lifting a challenging brow. 

“Spell what?” Jisung asks, pursing his lips. He’s unsure as to what Minho is referencing right now. A staredown ensues on the sidewalk—Minho, with his eyebrows raised and a grin tugging his lips up, and Jisung, who glares defiantly into Minho’s face. 

“I’m walking you back because I want to,” Minho nonchalantly replies. “Are you going to stop whining and let me?” Minho gives the crook of his elbow a tug with his interlocked arm, and Jisung is pulled forward again, his legs moving on their own as Minho’s words sink into his brain. 

There’s no way he could be misinterpreting this. At least, he doesn’t _think_ so. 

“Okay,” Jisung eventually obliges, all breathless and faint. 

“Good.” Minho’s eyes are sparkling when he turns and gives him a smug smile that knocks out the little breath Jisung had left in him. “That’s good.” 

Jisung somehow directs them back to his dorm, almost tripping while crawling up the staircase to the second floor of his residence hall—only saved because Minho’s elbow is steadily anchored in his. 

By the time they reach the door, Jisung’s mind is back to wandering all over the place again.

“Would this be a better time to say thank you for today?” Jisung asks sheepishly, as he rummages his pockets for his keycard.

It makes Minho’s blindingly bright grin resurface, his eyes shaping into crescents. He’s seen this grin about a million times today, but it never gets old. “Probably, yes,” he nods. “But I’m going to throw a thank you back, because I really enjoyed our adventures today.” He says the word _adventures_ like they had gone on a secret magical journey or something—not just circling around the same city they had lived in for years—and with an especially warm lilt to his voice. Like he’ll treasure the day. Jisung doesn’t doubt it either. 

“Me too. And I have inspiration!” Jisung says, prosperously holding up his keycard into the air. “You should look forward to our next song,” he tells Minho with resolve.

“Definitely.” 

When they stand in the hallways for another lengthy stretch of time, Minho’s eyes soften and he leans forward and Jisung’s breath catches in his throat and his lips part subconsciously and is this what he thinks it is because if it is then—

Minho’s hand envelops his and then he brings up their cupped hands to the doorknob, where the door buzzes green when met with the keycard and the lock clicks free. 

“I’ll see you next week,” Minho finishes, dropping his hand and taking a step back. 

“Right,” Jisung says dumbly. 

Then Minho, who is still smiling, tilts his head like a kitten analyzing its owner and breaks into laughter. “You were hoping for a goodbye kiss, right?”

“Ah...no...wait–yeah,” Jisung all but stutters out. 

“So yes,” Minho says matter-of-factly. 

“Well,” Jisung replies abashedly, but fails to add anything else to this half-formed sentence of his. When he sees Minho bring up a hand to hide his brewing chuckles, Jisung defensively blurts, “Yeah, and what if I was?” 

And then before Minho can respond, Jisung continues to ramble, unable to stop the newly-found fountain of words from free-flowing out of his mouth. “You knew exactly what you were doing when you leaned forward, didn’t you? Unlocking the door with the keycard and everything just to be a… a… little tease,” he falters at the last words, glancing away in embarrassment. “If you knew what I wanted, then you should have just followed through instead of being a coward.”

For once, Minho looks taken aback, but he quickly recovers his stance. “You’re exactly right,” he states. “But maybe, I also chickened out at the last moment because it was the great J. One standing right in front of me. What’s a measly commoner to our school’s greatest celebrities?” Even as Minho admits this, Jisung can notice a shade of pink tinting his cheeks and an even darker shade of red rising to the tips of his ears. It’s reassuring, to know Minho isn’t all unashamed teasing and coy banter. 

“I’m just Jisung,” Jisung finally says, but he’s smiling now too, part bashful and part giddy.

“Oh, that’s true too,” Minho says. “It was just a half-hearted excuse, _Jisung_ ,” he emphatically adds, and the name— _his_ name—falls very nicely off Minho’s lips. He would like to hear it more often.

“So…” Jisung draws out his words. 

“Okay, no bailing out this time, I guess,” Minho makes meaningful eye contact and then steps forward again.

Jisung takes a step forward too, prepared to meet him halfway, and they’re hovering in each other’s orbit, and then— 

“Jisung!” 

“Ah…” Jisung nearly jumps into the air like a startled squirrel when the door behind them draws open. Minho’s eyes widen as he jerks back, and Jisung swivels around, hoping his face doesn’t appear too flustered and red. 

Lo and behold, Hyunjin stands in the doorway, regarding the two of them quite suspiciously. “I thought I heard the lock click, but nobody came inside.” Minho and Jisung share a helpless look. 

“Well, I’ll see you next week,” Minho eventually settles on repeating and trails down the hallway, turning back once to wave goodbye. 

“Get home safe!” Jisung calls after him, even though a sort of longing impatience has started to settle into his skin. 

“Hey, who was that?” Hyunjin asks, expectantly regarding Jisung the moment that he turns back around. 

Jisung chooses not to answer. Then, he kicks the back of Hyunjin’s ankles as he follows him inside the room. 

“Couldn’t you have waited another minute?” 

When Hyunjin finally understands what Jisung is implying, he breaks into high-pitched giggles that bounce off the walls. Jisung plants himself face down into his bed, letting out a thunderous groan. 

\---

The next week, Jisung is a bundle of nerves when he heads up to the bus stop. He had been working with the rest of 3RACHA over the weekend to make this happen as fast as possible, and he’s really happy with the result, but that doesn’t prevent him from working himself up as he walks across campus. 

Even though his back is to him, Jisung’s eyes pick out Minho easily. He’s already standing at the stop when Jisung nears it, and he tugs the bag slung over his shoulder to keep it even closer. 

Jisung noiselessly approaches the other and takes the opportunity to say “boo!” as he taps an unsuspecting Minho’s shoulder.

Minho lets out an ungraceful yelp and flinches forward. The scene aids in dissolving some of Jisung’s nerves. When Minho turns around though, his eyes light up at the sight of Jisung. 

“You scared me,” he says, clutching onto his chest dramatically. 

“That was the goal,” Jisung replies. He wrings a sweaty hand around the handle of his bookbag, before announcing , “I have something for you.”

“Oh?” Minho’s eyebrows jump up his forehead. 

“Yep,” Jisung nods, determined and relieved that his hands don’t shake as he digs into his bag for what he’s searching for. When he finds it, Jisung pulls it out and holds the item in front of Minho, gauging the other’s face for a reaction. “Here.”

Minho takes it from him without hesitation. It is a CD, with the front of it visible inside the jewel case that Jisung had stored it in. And on the front of the disk are lyrics, written in black sharpie, looping around the rim and spiraling towards the center, where Jisung had finished it off with his autograph.

“I just thought it would be funny,” Jisung nervously begins, “if I signed it, because, you know, that’s how this all started with me talking about my music stuff...”

Minho peers down at the CD, turning it around in his hands as he reads some of the lyrics before looking back up at Jisung. “I can hear my song coming out of your earbuds, do you want an autograph,” he mimics what Jisung had said on that fateful day.

“Yeah, that,” Jisung says and then stops. “You just recited it perfectly—you heard me all along!” 

Minho beams. “I may have been listening to music, but I still heard you pretty clearly. The words were just still sinking in at the time.”

“Great,” Jisung mutters dryly, and Minho grins even wider. His gaze falls back down as he reads the rest of the lyrics scrawled onto the disk. 

“So I’m guessing this is the song that you made after last week, right?”

“Yeah,” Jisung affirms. “Um, listen to it when you get back and let me know what you think, okay?”

“No, that wasn’t what I had been planning to do at all,” Minho sarcastically replies. Jisung glares at him, though there’s no real heat behind it. 

“This is a perfect excuse for me to ask for your number, though,” Minho cheekily continues. “So I can give you a live update after I’m done listening.”

They exchange phone numbers, finishing just in time for the bus to come pulling up to the stop. 

This time, there is zero hesitation when Jisung drops into the seat right next to Minho’s.

\---

**minho** **  
** 4:12 PM | ok i’m listening to it now

 **jisung**  
!!! | 4:13 PM  
actually u know i am currently making more music rn | 4:13 PM  
so i may not be able to reply immediately but i hope u enjoy!!| 4:13 PM

ok we’re done | 5:25 PM  
oh you just disappeared | 5:25 PM  
so what did you think? | 5:26 PM

\---

Jisung is halfway through a homework assignment, shortly after getting back from the usual producing session with Chan and Changbin, when he hears a knock at his door. 

He isn’t thinking much of it when he rises to open it—in fact, he hollers at the doorway, “Hyunjin, did you forget your key card _again_?” It isn’t until he flings the door open that he sees Minho standing on the other side. 

“Minho!” Jisung begins with a glint in his voice, but it simmers towards uncertainty. “Hi..?”

“I loved the song,” Minho says, breathless, before promptly leaning forward, pulling Jisung in by the back of his neck, and kissing him.

Jisung’s arms go slack. His mouth does too, until he responds and kisses back with as much fervor as he can muster. All his brain can supply is _sunshine,_ because that’s what it feels like, kissing Minho. If the moment the sun’s first drowsy rays shone through a break in the clouds could be a feeling that was bottled up and sent flowing—the liquid brilliance pulsing through his veins—then it would be this. Indescribable warmth and such splendid radiance, and sunbeams dancing across each of the areas where he and Minho make contact. 

It’s very fitting. 

“My only criticism is that you didn’t use a single cheesy line that I offered,” Minho tuts with a lopsided grin, one that grows when Jisung levels him with a blank stare after they pull away.

“Maybe next time,” Jisung accedes, unable to stop the silly smile that pulls up his cheeks after a moment. 

“Okay, but for real now, you never told me what you titled the song,” Minho says. “I looked all over the CD and I listened to the track many times but I’m still not that sure.”

“I know,” Jisung replies. “But you’ll find out soon enough.”

\---

(3604 upvotes) |  **3RACHA** made a new post:  
>mixtape dropping in 3 days! spoilers, this is from a song titled “sunshine”  
>shoutout to you know who you are for helping make this possible 😌 this song is dedicated to you!

> _Even in a noisy city..._ _  
> _ _Do whatever you want..._ _  
> _ _Sit in the sunshine and close your eyes,_ _  
> _ _Look at me for a second…._

\---

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> if you couldn't tell, a lot of this was inspired by sunshine (and jisung's genius lyrics from it haha) and in addition to the prompt. and this probably didn't go quite in the direction the prompt had intended it for to since I focused less on the famous element and more on the songwriting aspect. still, I had fun with this, so if you're here thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed! any kudos/comments are greatly appreciated :D
> 
> big thanks to lena for betaing, i'm so glad i found you through this T^T
> 
> also, please go check out the other works for this event—if you're here, you're probably here for the minsung, and this collection is where you can find plenty more of them!


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